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The Yellow Satchel
She approaches, Eyes gleaming Brighter than my countenance. It isn’t hard to tell She is quite taken by me And she lets herself dream For a moment How enriched her life would be With me in it. Joy unbridled beams from within As she touches and strokes And holds me close – As close as →
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Still Life
You convinced me To believe Until the notion Was conceived Then turned. Leaving me To grieve alone This once Hope-laden thing As hollow as Your promise As empty asYour heart As meaningless As you A lifeless symbol Of what love Could have been →
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Survival
I take a walk around the graveyard of my soul. Here are buried wishes; there, expired dreams. Elsewhere, heart-attachments are laid to rest, Withered away before they had a chance to live. I kneel at each grave in turn To cry a little, mourn a little, And hope that one of these might revive, Get →
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Lost and Found
She looks in the mirror Doesn’t like what she sees In misery and anguish She falls to her knees With forehead to ground She cries and she cries For forgiveness and mercy From the Lord Most High She cannot forget All the sins she committed Can’t plug the gaps from The deeds she omitted She →
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The Stairwell
Why do I keep returning to that place? Vivid image, burned in my mind. I’ve moved on, so much time, so much space. But some part of me has stayed there. Why is the stairwell in my mind empty? Back then, it was always so full. Is it meant to symbolise my life? Surrounded but →
NAZIRA'S NOTEBOOK 